


Recording

by rhoen



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/rhoen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So making a sex video seemed like a good idea when Mickey suggested it - only it's kinda hard for it to be 'just sex' between the two of them now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recording

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing this pairing, please don't judge too harshly!
> 
> So Clem mentioned this 'Gallavich' thing (and broke my heart) and then Laura and I were talking about things that just NEED to exist. This is a mix of two of those things. (And maybe if this isn't too badly received I'll get on the other two things on that list).
> 
> As always, work is un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

**You may not take this fic and edit or reupload it - in whole or in part - without my express permission. This includes translations.**  

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Thank you for respecting my wishes

* * *

 

The idea was hot. How Mickey had gotten a hold of the video recorder, Ian didn’t care - he just pulled the thing from Mickey’s hands and kissed him, stepping forward, forcing his boyfriend back towards the bed. Mickey fell, helped by Ian’s free hand pushing at his chest, as his knees connected with the edge of the bed. The redhead just smirked down at him, raising the camera and glancing at the image being captured.

“Strip.”

Mickey never needed to be told twice - if he ever needed to be told at all - and started pulling at his clothes. How desperate he was for Ian’s touch never failed to do unbelievable things to Ian’s ego. He watched as his boyfriend hastily tugged his own clothes off, chucking them at the floor, eyes on Ian the whole time, only glancing at the camera once. There was no smart remark about Ian taking his time, no comment about the way he was still smirking down at Mickey. Mickey was always impatient, but he was waiting for Ian to take control, as patiently as Mickey could wait for anything.

“Kneel,” Ian ordered, waiting until the command was followed before moving forward, giving both himself and the camera a better view as the dark-haired guy leant forwards on hands and knees, his ass exposed. Hand running down Mickey’s spine, Ian let his finger circle the tight, twitching hole, barely pushing inside. Mickey’s back arched and he groaned, predictably trying to lean back and get more of the sensation. Ian pulled away, not giving him what he wanted, biting his lip as he realised Mickey had prepared himself before he’d come to find Ian, probably tugging his pants and boxers down far enough to reach round and roughly prepare himself with vaseline-slicked fingers, before coming to find Ian, camera in hand. He grabbed at Mickey’s ass, fingers pressing into the firm, round flesh as he exposed him even more.

“You gonna fuck me, or just stare?”

He didn’t want to admit how tempting it was to just stare, to expose every part of Mickey and drink in the sight of him, record it all for whenever he was alone and needed to jack off. But Ian was almost completely incapable of turning Mickey down.

“Well you’re whining like a bitch, so I might as well fuck you like one,” he retorted without malice. Mickey didn’t need it, but Ian let his finger press into his hot, tight entrance anyway, moving in and out just to wind him up. Mickey rocked into the touch, breath hitching in frustration. When Ian added another finger there wasn’t even a hint of discomfort. Mickey took is easily, and Ian watched, half through the camera as he captured the way Mickey rocked back and fucked himself on his fingers. He was torn between the desire to bury himself in Mickey’s welcoming body and the need to draw this out, to record every moment, all the ways he knew he could make Mickey gasp and beg for Ian to fuck him.

Listening to the increasing cascade of moans tumbling from Mickey’s lips, Ian moved away. Painfully hard, he reached up to the shelf and pulled down an unread book. Pushing the empty cigarette packets and beer bottles on the bedside table out the way, Ian focused on setting the camera down at just the right angle, trying to ignore the way Mickey’s eyes were fixed on him, the way his dick twitched in the tight confines of his clothes.

“Turn over,” he instructed, reaching for the hem of his own top and pulling it off in one quick, clean motion. Ian hesitated, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jeans, as he caught the way Mickey was watching him, now on his back. Ian swallowed thickly, fingers slowly working his belt free, teasing the fabric lower rather than hurriedly pulling it off, dragging his boxers down with his jeans - all the while watching the effect slowly undressing was having on Mickey. As he kicked himself free of the last few inches of fabric, Ian afforded himself a moment of relief, wrapping his hand around his own hard cock and stroking.

“Want it?” he asked needlessly. Mickey responded, nodding silently. With a smirk and a glance towards the camera, Ian finally joined his boyfriend on the bed, swinging a leg over and straddling Mickey’s chest, the tip of his dick tantalisingly close to the more than capable mouth. “Wanna suck it?”

Mickey’s mouth opened obediently, tongue already trying to taste Ian in answer. Shifting forward, Ian gave Mickey what he wanted, hand guiding his dick into the willing mouth. He threw his head back, moaning in pleasure as the warm, wet sensation took away that painful edge of arousal. Fingers threaded through Mickey’s hair, encouraging, rocking into his boyfriend’s mouth and finding a rhythm as Mickey raised his head, leaning forward, trying to take as much of Ian’s dick as the awkward position would allow. Mickey’s hands slid up and gripped at Ian’s thighs, and when Ian shifted, wanting to rise up on to his knees and take more control to better fuck Mickey’s face, the grip on his thighs increased, wanting him to stay where he was. He didn’t fight the touch, instead looking down and meeting astonishingly beautiful blue eyes. Ian’s hand gently stroked the side of Mickey’s face, and for a minute he completely forgot about everything else - about the camera, about the fact that this was just supposed to be fucking - and was completely caught up in the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Mickey looking up at him like that, his lips wrapped around Ian’s dick.

Pulling back, Ian climbed off and slid down beside Mickey, kissing him invasively as his hand traced lower, wrapping around Mickey’s hard dick and stroking firmly as he rocked his hips against Mickey’s.

“Gonna fuck you so goddamn hard,” Ian breathed, licking along Mickey’s jaw and biting at his earlobe, tugging it between his teeth. He tried to ignore everything else, to focus purely on the physical, on the fact he was going to fuck Mickey. The way his boyfriend moaned in response made it easy, and he pulled away, reaching to find the bottle of lube. As he slicked himself, Ian didn’t bother telling Mickey to turn over. Fucking him like this was fine. More than fine. He kissed Mickey, lining up and pushing inside in one swift movement.

Mickey’s lips broke away from his as he moaned involuntarily, hands already trying to find purchase on Ian’s back and upper arm.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey breathed, “you not-”

Ian didn’t let him finish, rolling into him with another powerful thrust, turning his words into a breathy gasp and a succession of moans as the redhead set a fast, unrelenting pace. If Mickey was playing up for the camera, moaning when they both knew how quiet he could be and usually was when they fucked, Ian figured he might as well play the part too.

“You like having an audience, huh?” he teased, breathing his words in Mickey’s ear, pulling back and changing the angle before Mickey could respond. Ian pounded into him, grunting as he held Mickey’s waist tightly. He looked over at the camera, at the red light blinking at them, and smirked at it before turning his attention back to Mickey, running his eyes appreciatively up over his body, following with his hand. As his hand reached Mickey’s neck, Ian leant forward again, fingers pushing through the short hair at the base of Mickey’s head, his stomach sliding against his boyfriend’s as he rolled into his body.

“Hold on,” he warned a split second before wrapping his arms as securely around Mickey as he could, flipping them both over. Mickey grunted in surprise, using his hands on Ian’s torso to push himself up, grinding his hips down hard against Ian’s before drawing his knees up and using the new position as leverage to fuck himself on Ian’s hard cock. He smirked at the sight, before the way Mickey impaled himself fully on the redhead’s length made Ian moan far too loudly, eyes rolling shut in pleasure. He bit his lip, trying to regain control of what he was feeling as Mickey rode him, hands reaching towards his boyfriend and finding a knee and wrist. It didn’t matter what, Ian just needed something to hold onto, to ground him. Raising his head from the mattress, Ian watched, unable to draw air fully into his lungs under the weight of Mickey’s actions. He felt a surge of pride at the sight of the beautiful man he loved unashamedly riding him, completely free, completely focused on taking all the pleasure he could get from Ian.

Only when Mickey’s pace faltered did Ian shift, sensing the fatigue and feeling the way Mickey’s body trembled with the effort of the pace he’d set. Surging forward, his arms wrapped around Mickey’s body, catching him as the motion nearly tipped him backwards. Rather than listen to any words of protest, Ian kissed him, breathing heavily through his nose as he maintained the contact, far too rough and heavy at first, slowly letting it soften into a proper kiss - his lips gentle against Mickey’s, parting to allow his tongue to taste Mickey’s lips, to explore his mouth. Breathing through his nose, Mickey’s heavy breaths brushed over Ian’s skin as the redhead’s hands swept over his boyfriend’s back, one resting at the base of his spine and the other holding his head securely as they kissed. Unmoving in Ian’s lap, Mickey gave a choked gasp when Ian rocked his hips upwards as best he could in the position they were in, pinned by Mickey’s comforting weight. He felt a pang as Mickey’s lips broke away, the slighter guy burying his face in Ian’s neck, arms fiercely wrapping around the redhead’s neck as Mickey met Ian’s movement, initiating a new, much slower, grinding pace. They shouldn’t be, but the simple small movements were just as breathtakingly intense. Holding Mickey tightly in return, they found a slow, deep rhythm, both gasping and softly moaning as they rocked against each other.

Ian’s hand lightly touched the back of Mickey’s head, coaxing him into pulling back. Ian needed to kiss him, but, breathing heavily, he could only manage to spill short kisses on Mickey’s lips between gasps. Giving up, he gently cupped the side of Mickey’s face, bumping their foreheads together, eyes focusing on where his other hand was now tracing down over Mickey’s stomach and wrapping around the dark-haired guy’s dick, firmly gripping the hot, hard flesh. He loved how much Mickey got off on this, on having Ian buried deep inside him, on being fucked. Only, as his gaze fixed on Mickey’s astonishingly blue eyes, Ian knew that what they did wasn’t always just fucking. His heart had always been in what they did, and he’d often thought Mickey’s was too, but now he knew; now he knew that he wasn’t the only one whose heart twisted and clenched with such a terrifyingly strong emotion it seemed to consume everything he was, until all Ian wanted to be was Mickey’s, for them to be together in every sense of the word.

Tilting Mickey’s jaw and kissing him again, Ian quickened his pace, pushing himself closer to the edge and knowing Mickey would follow. The dark-haired man in his lap gave a choked moan as he tried to both thrust up into Ian’s hand and down onto his dick. Ian didn’t know how much longer his body could cope with the sweet strain of feelings coursing through his veins.

“I’m…” he breathed, surprised when Mickey’s hand suddenly grasped at the back of his head.

“Kiss me,” Mickey hurriedly pleaded, muscles tightening around Ian, making the tight heat overwhelming.

Giving in, Ian kissed him, eyes screwed shut as he started to cum, trying to focus on fulfilling Mickey’s request and not pull away as wave after wave of release course through him, spilling into Mickey, who grasped at the redhead and rode him through the orgasm, the fact Ian was releasing deep inside him pushing him over the edge. Ian was forced to pull away and draw breath, hand stroking his boyfriend through his orgasm. He watched Mickey’s expression as warm cum splashed onto their stomachs and onto Ian’s still-moving hand as he milked the last of Mickey’s orgasm from him.

The second he came down from his high enough to move, Mickey was kissing him again, both hands cupping Ian’s face, pushing through his hair. Ian returned the gesture, not even thinking twice about the sticky mess on his hand. He could still feel the last tremors of Mickey’s orgasm rippling through his body, the spasming muscles eventually stilling around where Ian was still buried inside him. Neither of them broke away or made to get up, they just kissed.

Running his hand down Mickey’s spine, Ian eventually pulled back, thumb stroking Mickey’s cheek as he looked into his striking blue eyes. He still half expected some smartass remark on Mickey’s part, but got only silence, and a breathtaking smile.

Ian’s heart skipped a beat as he returned it, content to just look at Mickey, not ruining the moment with words. His thumb stroked over the soft skin of Mickey’s cheek again, knowing he was being held in the same regard - as a partner, as an equal, as someone cherished: a lover, not just a lay. When Mickey moved, lifting himself and causing Ian to slip from his body, it felt just right - not rushed, but not as if they’d held on too long. They knew how long to hold on, when to let go. Ian was sure he knew why, but didn’t think too closely on the reason. It was just how it was, he didn’t need to try and explain it, to pin it down with a word - especially in moments like this.

Mickey’s glance to the side reminded Ian of how this whole thing had started, and when he turned, the camera still sat there, red light blinking at them. Ian groaned, falling back on the bed and reaching out to grab the stupid thing, intent on shutting it off. He didn’t want anything more recorded. He wasn’t sure when his opinion had changed - probably the moment he forgot the thing was there and got so completely lost in Mickey. Pressing at the buttons and making sure it was turned off before he set it aside, Ian grabbed the pack of Marlboro and a lighter before he turned his attention back to his boyfriend, who was stretching out beside him, arms wrapping around Ian’s chest. Ian lit up, giving a smile around the cigarette in his mouth at Mickey’s words.

“That was fuckin’ hot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, exhaling, passing the cigarette over. Ian couldn’t help but watch Mickey’s lips as he took a draw.

“Should do shit like that more often.”

Ian waited for Mickey to take another draw before taking the cigarette back, on responding as he exhaled. “What we do getting boring?”

“Naw, just…” sitting up, Mickey tugged at the messed-up blanket, pulling it over their legs, his thigh resting against Ian’s. “‘S fun, mixing it up a bit, now and then.”

“You’re kinky,” Ian smirked, nudging Mickey teasingly as he passed the cig back.

Mickey shrugged, considering the word. “Yeah, I guess. That’s not a fucking bad thing, is it?”

Ian shook his head, grinning. “Hell no. I fucking love kinky.” Despite how it had ended - not that it had really ended badly - having the video recorder was hot. Ian had loved the idea, it had felt almost as if he was showing off to someone - showing off his boyfriend, showing how good he was at fucking Mickey’s brains out, showing just how good they were together. Maybe he’d inadvertently show a bit too much of how well they went together, but it wasn’t as if anyone else was going to see the thing.

“Good. That mean you want to tie me up next time?”

Attention instantly back on the conversation, Ian raised his eyebrow. “Why was that even a question?”

Mickey shrugged, grinning and taking another draw before passing the cigarette back again. “I dunno, gotta keep you interested.”

Ian snorted. “As if I’d ever get bored of you.”

They fell silent, neither saying anything further about the comment. They never spoke of the future, laid out any plans or goals for what they wanted to do or be, where they wanted to go. They were together, and that was that. Ian never felt the need to tell Mickey how he felt, that he wanted to wake up every day next to him and that, no matter how shit things were between them, the thought of living without Mickey was always far, far worse. Ian didn’t say it, because he was sure Mickey knew it.

Watching the recording on his own later that evening, Ian realised that, as the fucking turned into something more connected and caring, anyone looking at the video would be able to see with painful clarity that Ian loved Mickey completely. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that wasn't too awful. It's weird not writing RickRen, I hope I did these guys justice.


End file.
